


Major Indiscretion

by mouseratstan



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, First Time, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseratstan/pseuds/mouseratstan
Summary: A coda to Meg's "Minor Inquiry"
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	Major Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rockethop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockethop/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Minor Inquiry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052829) by [rockethop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockethop/pseuds/rockethop). 



Something just sort of snaps inside Ben when he kisses her.

It's as if every emotion he's been keeping and suppressing for the last several months have just been forcefully brought to the forefront; all that anger, frustration, everytime he looked at her and wanted more, when he wanted her and couldn't have her, all exploding out of him now the second his lips touch hers. 

Tonight is different. He just knows it.

His eyes shut as she sighs against his lips, happily content, perhaps sensing that this is more than just a simple kiss. It's the longing, maybe, the slight shake of Ben’s hand as he cups her cheek, dragging her closer and closer until their lips part, deepening the kiss, and the strangled moan deep in his throat as her fingers flex around his bicep.

Her breathing is a little heavier as she pulls away, keeping her forehead resting against his. “Will you take me to bed?” she asks so softly, as if she's worried he might say no.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted you to say that.”

He scoops her up, so small and light in his arms, and she giggles, curling around him. He's barging into her room like he owns it, pushing her onto her bed, climbing on top. He kisses her again, with that same fervent, hungry feeling, utterly consuming her, with her nails scratching his scalp and his fingers working shakily with the buttons on her blouse.

Her skin is soft as he exposes more of it, stretching his fingers over her stomach, palming her breast, paying attention to the way her breath hitches in her throat. His erection strains in his pants with every sound she makes, every gasp, every tiny moan, the way she so easily responds to his touch, so simply gives in to his ministrations. 

Ben unclasps her bra and immediately sets to work on her nipple, swirling his tongue around it, reveling in the way she squeaks and arches her back against him. “Ben,” she moans, low and almost desperate, something new that he’s never heard from her.  _ “Ben.” _

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes, his eyes shut tight as he presses kisses down her stomach, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her thighs. She's small here too, like she is everywhere, so tiny in his hands, and yet so, so bright. He's wanted her ever since he saw her, he thinks, ever since she called him a jerk. When she had the nerve to go head to head with him even with her job on the line. Her job is on the line now— neither of them should be doing this. They've never particularly gotten along, and he's still her boss, but  _ god,  _ if he hasn't been thinking about her… alone in his room, late at night, with just his hand and the sound of stifled, shameful grunts.

Being with her is even more beautiful than he could've imagined.

Where she's a firecracker everywhere else in life, now she's calm, just slightly more subdued, as if she's taking her break from being in charge. She takes care of everything for everyone in life, and now this is her chance to truly be taken care of. And Ben will gladly fill that role. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and tosses them aside, spreading her thighs apart, taking a moment just to revel at her, to take her in, get a good look at all he's wanted since he first came to Pawnee.

His fingers are trembling as he slides up her thighs to her hips, feeling that she fits perfectly in his hands, as if they just  _ fit.  _ He presses his face into her stomach, her thighs curling around his waist.  _ “You're beautiful,”  _ he whispers into her skin, as if he's too ashamed to say it to her face, too scared to look her in her eyes. “So, so beautiful.”

He takes a moment, just a moment, to savor this. She's slowly pulling his shirt over his head and pulling his belt from his pants, fumbling with the button, as he slides farther up her body. His chest, now bare, presses against her breasts, and he buries his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. She smells differently than he would've imagined. Something crisp, like apples, as opposed to the cinnamon and sugar he pictured in his dreams. One hand finds itself brushing through the curl of her hair, so soft against his palm, stroking it as if to calm her. To show her that, as much as he is passionate about this—  _ about her—  _ he is also gentle, committed to doing this the right way, to showing her all the care and affection he truly has for her.

He strokes her hair softly, continuously, as his free hand dips down between her legs to touch her. A tiny, strangled whine escapes her as his fingers brush over her clit, dipping even lower to enter her, listening intently as her breath catches, she gently bucks her hips, holding him tighter to her.

“Does that feel good?” he asks her, fingers sliding in and out with ease. She can't answer verbally, opting instead for a nod accompanied by a low moan, biting down on her bottom lip to keep herself under control. “Stay with me,” he whispers, one hand still brushing through her hair, massaging her scalp. “Stay with me. Do you have a condom?”

“In my bag,” she answers, all in one rushed breath. She whimpers with the loss of him as he pushes away, only to grab the condom and rid himself of his boxers. He feels close to losing his mind with how badly he wants her, rolling the condom on, eager to be inside her as quickly as possible. Her legs are spread and she's lying across her bed panting, hair fanned out against her pillow, giving him the softest of smiles as if to encourage him. “Ben,” she says. “Are you okay?”

He only falters for a moment,  _ just a moment,  _ before climbing back on top of her, positioning himself once more between her legs, their chests together. He kisses her slowly, stealing her breath away. “I'm okay,” he tells her, before lining himself up with her opening and pushing inside her.

The feeling of her hits him instantly, like some kind of drug, something so dangerously addictive that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of it. He pushes himself in as far as he can go, her gasping under him, and he can't help it, he  _ can't help it.  _ He’s trembling and she feels so damn good, so perfect to him, that he moans right into her ear, something so intimate and so uncontrollable.

_ “Leslie,”  _ he moans, deep in his throat, as he shudders in an attempt to keep his arousal at bay. “You feel… so good. Oh god.”

And just that is all it takes.

With just her name, she stiffens underneath him, just slightly. She grips him tighter, her thighs clenching around his waist, her moaning switching to something like heavy breathing. She's fading away from him, just slightly, as soon as he says her name, and it's enough.  _ It's enough. _

The image in his head shifts, as if that addictive drug is finally wearing off and showing him his reality that he couldn't face. He's still inside her, still pounding away, but somehow it feels a little less intense, less pleasurable, less  _ perfect.  _ Even her body changes, into something that doesn't quite fit in his hands. Still small, incredibly tiny, but  _ taller,  _ that much thinner, a little bit more awkward. Her skin isn't quite so pale anymore, and what was once shining blonde hair between his fingers grows dark, brunette, something entirely different.

This isn't Leslie. This isn't being  _ with  _ Leslie. This is something empty, something sad, something  _ desperate. _

Ben finishes inside of Shauna Malwae-Tweep after imagining her as Leslie the entire time he was with her. She doesn't once mention his slip-up, in calling her by Leslie’s name, maybe to make it less awkward, but she definitely heard him, she absolutely knows. He doesn't think she finishes, but in his defense, it's become much harder for him to pay attention, to really work out how to pleasure this woman beneath him now that he isn't seeing Leslie in her place.

They both get dressed again and share uncomfortable, awkward smiles, and Ben really just wants to leave. He's ruined it, completely ruined it, he's sure of it, and he wonders if Shauna will even want to see him again. They've been going out, just casually, just to take the edge off between fighting with Leslie and going home and  _ thinking  _ about Leslie.

Oh god, what if Shauna  _ tells  _ Leslie?

Stroking Shauna’s hair again as if nothing happened at all, Ben decides right then and there that he really must be the world's most pathetic, desperate man.


End file.
